


Not A Colour

by iola17



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iola17/pseuds/iola17
Summary: "It was all wrong. Patrick’s hair was not plain brown, his eyes were not that muddy shade. His face was too thin, his arms too spindly, it was just… not right."When the mock-up of their wedding invitations comes in the post, David gets straight on the phone to the designer.





	Not A Colour

**Author's Note:**

> Written in reponse to how difficult it is to accurately describe the shades of Patrick's hair. Brown? Red? Who knows.

“They’re kind of…” David broke off, free hand circling as he grappled for a descriptor. “Soulful.”

One the other end of the phone line, the artist sighed heavily. “Soulful is not a colour.”

David huffed in annoyance and closed his eyes, thinking. It was frustrating; in his mind’s eye, David could picture his fiancé so clearly, but when it came to describing the perfection of Patrick’s features to another person, when it came to finding the ideal way to describe the exact curve of his mouth, the line of his jaw, the hue of his eyes… it was impossible to do him justice.

Opening his eyes again, he looked down at the mock-up of the wedding invitation in his hand. An illustration of David, perfectly coiffed and elegant in his sleek black suit stood holding hands with… well, with what was _supposed _to be Patrick.

It was all wrong. Patrick’s hair was _not _plain brown, his eyes were _not _that muddy shade. His face was too thin, his arms too spindly, it was just… not right. 

David had opened the mail that evening and immediately called the invitation designer, keen to correct the mistakes.

“I don’t understand. On the photo you sent me, his eyes _are_ brown,” the designer insisted and it was David’s turn to sigh.

“Yeeesss,” he dragged out. “But not that kind of brown. They’re…” _Caramel, chestnut, umber, _his brain suggested and dismissed each option in a second. None of those were quite right. “Warm.”

“Warm _what_?” The artist – Gary, David remembered - said on the other end of the phone, desperation creeping into his voice. David understood, they’d been on the phone for ten minutes and hadn’t even started on the rest of the issues.

“…Brown,” David whispered, defeated. “But not the kind of brown you used.”

David leaned against the kitchen counter and cast his gaze around, searching for anything that matching the stunning shade of Patrick’s eyes. Walnut? No. They were warmer, lighter than that, calling to mind spices and home and-

“Gingerbread!” David said suddenly, far too loudly for the proximity of the phone at his ear.

Gary made a startled sound at the volume as David beamed, triumphant, at the empty room. “It’s kind of like gingerbread.” Not exactly but closer than whatever-the-hell had been used on the mock-up.

David heard the other man let out a relieved breath. “Gingerbread, right. I can work with that.” There was a shuffling noise while the designer adjusted the phone. “Great. I can change the shade and get the new version over to you as soon as possible, okay?”

“Yes, but,” David said quickly, before the designer could end the conversation. He knew when someone was trying to get him off the phone. “There’s also his hair.”

A brief silence. David pulled his lower lip into his mouth as he waited for a response.

“His hair?” Gary asked faintly. “What’s wrong with his hair?”

“It’s the wrong colour.”

“I used the same shade as the photo you sent,” Gary said, a distinct bite to his words now and David hummed.

“It’s not right. It’s not that kind of brown.”

“I thought it matched pretty closely,” Gary said carefully. “What colour should it be?”

“Like… brown but not all the way brown. A bit red in the right light, sometimes gingery, now and then it looks a bit syrupy coloured, but not dark syrup.”

“That’s a lot of detail to put into a three-inch high cartoon figure.” Gary said. “I usually just use one block colour.”

“I know. But it’s our wedding invitation and it needs to look like him,” David said, misery creeping into his tone as he stared at the David and not-Patrick on the card in his hand. “He’s letting me have so much my way and these illustrated wedding invitations were one of the only things he really wanted. I guess his cousin had something similar and Patrick really liked it so-”

“Okay, okay. So not brown, not ginger, not red,” Gary said in a placating voice, cutting off the ramble before it could really get started. “But like a mix of all three?”

David murmured in agreement. “Yes. All of them and none of them. Depends where he is and the light and the time of year… There are kind of lighter streaks in the summer and there are more reddish tinges in the winter…”

Patrick’s hair was an optical marvel.

“Sometimes it looks like the colour of tree bark.” David said, knowing as he did so that this was not really helpful. There were a lot of different kinds of tree in the world and David, no expert on forestry, could identify maybe three by sight. And one of those was ‘apple tree’ and he was only confident in his ability to point one of those out if it actually had apples on it at the time.

“Right,” Gary said, helpless. “Could… would you say auburn?”

David looked up to the ceiling, considering. He drummed his finger on the counter as he thought. “Sometimes?”

Gary sighed. “David, this is really hard to do over the phone. Could you just send me a few more photos? Send me a selection and I can try to find a medium between them all?”

David drew in a deep breath, already flipping through the photographs he knew he had on his phone, mentally selecting the best representation of Patrick’s beauty. Well. Maybe not _all _of the ones that best showed him off. There were a few that were definitely for David’s eyes only.

“Yeah. I can send a couple.” Or twenty.

“Great,” Gary said, relief apparent. “It might be easier than trying to describe it.”

David agreed. “Can you have a look at his build as well? He’s more muscled than the cartoon you sent. His arms are kind of-”

“Yes, yes sure I can,” Gary said hastily. “Give me a few days and I can get something back to you, okay?”

The conversation ended and David dropped the offending invitation on the countertop. The next version would be better. And if not… well, David would keep complaining until it was perfect. Patrick deserved it to be perfect.

While it hadn’t been David’s idea, once properly executed, the wedding invitations would be adorable and unique and something their guests could look at and instantly recognise as David and Patrick. He’d been so excited to see the template, he hadn’t even been able to wait until Patrick came back from picking up dinner from the pizza place. Good thing he hadn’t waited. Now when Patrick came home, he wouldn’t need to be upset by how poorly he’d been depicted- David could assure him he’d handled it already. They could just sit down and enjoy their evening.

David smiled as he headed over to the kitchen cupboard. Pulling open the door, he pulled out a couple of plates and set them on the worktop, ready for when Patrick returned with their food. There were a couple of wine glasses upside down on the draining board beside the sink and he picked them up, righting them before heading to the fridge to search for wine.

Just as he opened the fridge, the door opened and Patrick entered, carrying a couple of pizza boxes.

“Hi, babe,” he said, pushing the door closed behind him with a smile. David grinned back, warmth spreading through his veins. It still took him by surprise, after all this time, how his body responded and relaxed instinctively in Patrick’s presence.

“Hi.”

David set the wine down beside the glasses as Patrick dumped his keys and the pizza boxes on the counter before rounding the island to approach David, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

When he went to draw away, David followed his lips and Patrick laughed lightly, allowing David to kiss him again, smiling against his lips.

David wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him, content to enjoy the slow, gentle press of lips until the scent of pepperoni and cheese reached his nose and his stomach rumbled.

Patrick pulled away again, grinning. “Come on. Food’s getting cold.”

David poured the wine as Patrick carried the pizza boxes and plates over to the table before returning to David’s side to grab a glass of wine. As his fingers closed around it, Patrick’s gaze fell on the pile of letters on the kitchen counter. “Anything interesting in the mail?”

David shrugged as he carried his wine glass over to the table. “Couple of bills and Gary sent the template for the wedding invitation.”

Patrick made an interested noise in the back of his throat and moved towards the invitation before David could warn him about his unflattering image. David opened his mouth but too late, Patrick had picked up the invitation and froze, the card clutched in his hand.

“I know, honey,” David said soothingly, rushing back to Patrick’s side, setting a calming hand on his back. “It’s okay. I called him, told him he needed to redraw you. He got you all wrong.”

Patrick’s brow creased as he stared at the image before shaking his head.

“Where’s that guy’s number?” He asked, finally looking up at David with a frown.

“On the back,” David answered and crossed his arms when Patrick flipped the invitation over, digging his phone out of his jeans pocket with his other hand. “What are you doing? I called him.”

“Calling him again,” Patrick said, his eyes darting between his keypad and the invitation. “Have you seen your hair? It looks _nothing _like you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the Rosebudd - at least I know I'm not alone in struggling with this important question.


End file.
